


Blood Loss?

by Johnismyloveforever64



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Blood Donation, Gen, Needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:43:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnismyloveforever64/pseuds/Johnismyloveforever64
Summary: Just a quick one-shot where the boys have to get their blood drawn and are extra dramatic about it.





	Blood Loss?

The boys had just returned from their world tour, and were merely a month away from starting their American tour. And in this brief interlude, Brian decided that the boys needed to get health exams to ensure that they were healthy enough to go on such an extended tour so soon after the previous one.   
These exams included blood tests, which they took on a rainy afternoon in late June. Ringo was excused because he had had plenty of blood tests at the hospital, and he was reassured by his doctors that there were more coming up ahead. The other three were not given the same mercy, and so they were stuck going to the blood lab that afternoon. Ringo tagged along anyway, for what he intended as moral support, but the boys perceived as mockery.

“I don’t even understand why Ringo’s here?” John wondered, on the drive over. “He’s just a cruel reminder that some of us are luckier than others.”

“Oh? Like you?” Brian returned. 

“I wouldn’t call having my blood drained a lucky break,” John countered. 

“And Ringo did it four times in the past three weeks, and how many times have you done it in the last three years?”  
John didn’t respond. He just sank lower in his seat and sulked. 

“As for the rest of you,” Brian continued, “Just be grateful that it’s just one needle and not several.”

“That’s not true,” George objected. “Sometimes they have to do it twice.”

Brian sighed, “Fine, maybe two, but that’s the most—“

George raised his hand.

“Yes, George?”

“Sometimes they have to do it a third time.”

Paul gasped.

“Three needles!”

 

“It’s not going to happen to you,” Brian reassured him from the front seat. “And besides, they’re baby needles. I specifically requested that they use the needles they use on kids.”

“Wait, they use bigger needles on us just because we’re adults?” John was truly offended upon learning this. 

“Yes, because you are adults and you can handle big needles—well, you guys can’t—but most adults can,” Brian explained. The boys were still not convinced. So, Brian tried to further it. “Nevertheless, I got you the baby needles, so it doesn’t even matter about the adult ones.”

“But, for how long have we been tricked?” Paul wondered, with a look in his eyes reminiscent of a kid who just realized the Tooth Fairy was a lie. 

“Probably since you were twelve,” Ringo answered before Brian could. And then he added, “What? It’s common sense. After you growth spurt—assuming it happened then—your veins grew, and the need to give you baby needles was gone, so your pediatrician just switched on you and you never noticed.”

“Okay, I think you are all missing the point,” George interjected. “Do the adult needles hurt more?”

“And I think I made the point earlier, that it doesn’t matter. Today, you get baby ones.”

“Yes, but will they hurt any less than usual?”

Brian subtly turned to Ringo for answers. He sighed, and gave them their answer:

“It’ll probably hurt a little less, but it’s still a needle. You’re gonna be in pain, no matter what they do.” 

“Well, that’s a quote for the ages. I’ll remember that the next time we need Novocain, and Brian tries to convince this one,” he pointed to Paul, “that it hurts less.” 

“That was two years ago.”

“It still happened!” 

“Again, you’re all missing the point!” George shouted over them. They waited for him to go on. “We’re gonna get hurt today, and Ringo is not.” 

“And how is that my fault?” Ringo was truly offended now. 

“Because—“

George sighed, realizing that he didn’t have an explanation. And then Paul found one:

“Because it sucks!”

Ringo was going to say something when Brian interrupted him. 

“Just ignore them, Ringo. They’re only saying that because they’re pissed they have to get blood drawn. They’ll forgive you by tonight.”

He turned to the others and asked:

“Is that true?”

They shrugged.

“Sure, as long as you don’t rub it in,” John replied. 

“I won’t,” Ringo vowed, but the others weren’t so sure. 

The secretary took the boys into the lab right away—not to their relief. They would have much preferred sitting in the waiting room for twenty minutes, flipping through magazines and contemplating their doom, but instead they were pushed right back into the surgery with no magazines and no time to contemplate their doom—they just had to face their doom instead. 

The boys were lined up on a bench up against the wall, and Ringo, sitting casually and a little too smugly, was at the end. Paul, George, and John all glared at them from their respective places on the bench. They were alone in the room, because Brian had to talk to the doctor, but he promised he’d be back. John was reluctant to believe him.

“He left us here to die, and Ringo here has to be the witness,” he said, only seconds after the door shut behind their beloved manager. 

“Wait? I get to live?” Ringo feigned excitement. The other three glared at him. 

“No, we’ll probably sacrifice you to the blood drawing gods,” George answered with a sigh. 

“You wouldn’t?” He pretended to be offended. George pretended to be serious. 

“I would, if only to save John.”

John beamed.

“Why him? He doesn’t put up with your snoring.”

“First of all,” now George was actually offended, “I don’t snore. You do, and besides, John is our leader, and he’ll lead us into our American tour. You’d get us lost.”

“John is terrible with directions!” Ringo exclaimed.

“Yeah, but he can carry a tune!” Ringo was truly taken a back. George froze, realizing what he said.

That’s when Paul felt the need to step in. 

“Okay, that got very real for a second,” he said in his best Brian voice, “But let’s all remember who the real enemy is?”

“Is it Brian? Because if he leaves us here stranded, you will have to stop me from murdering him,” John responded. 

“No, well yes, but it’s actually the doctor. You know, the one who’s about to give us shots?”

The others couldn’t help but agree. 

“So, what do we do about it?” George wondered.

“Nothing,” Paul answered glumly, “we’re doomed.”

“Yeah,” Ringo sighed, “you are.”

They all glowered at him. 

“You. Promised!” John shouted.

“Promised what?” Their doctor called out from the doorway. They all refused to make eye contact with him. Paul went so far as to cross his arms and pout. “Well, I see we’re all in good spirits.” He gave them an amused smile, but they still refused to look at him. “Okay,” he continued, clapping his hands, “Why don’t we do this alphabetically. George?”  
George looked up at him, a look of pure animosity in his eyes.

“Why does it have to be me?” He griped. 

“Because, George, you’re first alphabetically.”

“Yeah, but you knew that I was first so why did you do that?”

“Because, I thought it was fair—“

“No, it’s not! Because I’m first no matter what,” he retorted.

The doctor sighed and looked at the group of young lads in front of him. He took a moment to consider all of his options and then called out:

“John, I think it ought to be you.”

John was twice as offended as George had been, if not more. 

“Me?” His eyebrows were raised in apprehension, but his eyes were set to murder. “I think you made a mistake.”

“Alright then, Paul—“

“Fine, it’s me,” John grumbled, standing up. 

He marched over to the chair, still grumbling as he sat down. The doctor got him set up, pinning his arm down and wrapping a rubber band around it. He told him to make his hand into a fist and he said, “Why? Does that make it hurt less?”

“No, but it will help it go faster.”

“Ugh, alright,” he muttered, balling his hand into a fist. 

The doctor wiped his arm down with an alcohol swab, and then quickly grabbed the needle and hid it behind his back before John could see. And before John could ask what was behind his back, the doctor had the needle in his arm.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, and then softened, “hey, that’s not that bad.” 

He was right. The baby needles had worked, and he hardly felt the jab at all. It just took him off guard is all. 

When he was finally done, he skipped over to the others, looking quite smug.

“Don’t rub it in,” Paul warned him.

John tapped his nose. Paul crinkled his nose, to John’s delight. 

“I don’t think you understand, love,” he said, taking both of Paul’s hands, “that was probably the easiest shot I ever got. I just thought you ought to know,” John told him. Paul was still skeptical. 

“I still think George ought to go next.”

“Me? but I always go second.”

“You go third,” John corrected, “And besides, I bet the doc over there is just itchin’ to do yours. Aren’t you, doc?” He smiled at Paul, who giggled back. they were still holding hands.

“I’d actually like to see Paul, now that I think about it,” the doctor replied apologetically. 

“Think again, doc,” John answered flatly. “And besides,” he continued, turning to George, “it won’t hurt.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, George, now go.”

George reluctantly sat in the doctor’s chair, sticking his arm way out. The doctor took it and started prepping him; the whole time, George glowered at John. 

“I hate—ah!” The doctor got him with the needle right then. He glared at John. 

When he was done, he raced back over to the bench, taking a seat right next to Paul. he gave him a knowing look.

“What?” Paul responded innocently.

“You’re next on the chopping block,” John answered, lighting a cigarette. He blew smoke in Paul’s face and he cringed. 

“I don’t want to go,” he whined. 

“Just do it,” George urged. “The two of us did it and we survived.”

John nodded, shaking the ashes into Paul’s hair. He brushed them out and then stood up.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” 

Then he immediately sat back down, fear in his eyes. John knelt down in front of him and said softly, “Paul, you can trust me.”

“And George?” 

“And George,” John answered with a smile. Paul sighed and stood up. He walked slowly across the room, and when he sat down John raced over to him. Paul looked confused and   
then John took his free hand and squeezed it. 

“Let the world think we’re queers,” John said quietly, and then added,”—they already do.” Paul giggled. 

“Are we ready, then?” the doctor asked him.

Paul closed his eyes and nodded. The doctor stuck the needle in Paul’s arm, and to everyone’s surprise, Paul didn’t say anything. He just crinkled his nose and winced a little. 

When the doctor finally pulled the needle from his arm, his eyes fluttered open. John was smiling at him. Paul smiled back. 

“You did great, love.” 

“Yeah, you didn’t even scream,” George added, coming over to them. Ringo followed close behind. He gave Paul a thumbs up. Brian came over to them too and gave Paul a   
congratulatory pat on the back. 

“See, you can get a shot?” Brian told him. Paul looked at him like he was nuts. 

“It was a baby needle,” he responded with sass. 

“So, I did well, then?” Brian asked the three of them. George shrugged, Paul rolled his eyes, and John tutted in response. 

“Are you kidding? You made us get shots—for no reason—and you didn’t even include Ringo!”

“Hey, I stood by the whole time.”

“And not once did you volunteer for slaughter,” John added. George and Paul nodded in agreement.

“Okay, we all agreed we’d stop harping on Ringo as soon as this was over,” Brian interjected. 

To that Paul looked up at him and said, “So?”

“It’s over,” he informed them. 

They all sighed. 

“Fine, you’re back in,” John said. Ringo beamed. “Well, all’s well that ends well?”

They all groaned in response.


End file.
